First Laugh Page 4

  “Crazy,” Barbara responded. “I need to buy this young man some designer duds for Christmas.”

  “And a handsome young man he is,” the sales lady said. “We have some perfect things on sale. Right this way.”

  After an hour of searching racks of clothing, Kareem decided on four Polo shirts. He also opted for two pairs of Polo chinos. What he really wanted was an expensive Harley Davidson motor cross jacket. Although, he would never ride a motorcycle, the jacket was stylish. Five hundred dollars stylish.

  “Grandma, can you please buy me the jacket?” Kareem held his hands like he was praying as he made his request.

  “Not this time,” she responded. “It’ll be on sale by January.”

  “I’ll mow your lawn. Do your dishes for a month. Take out the trash for weeks. Wash your car. I can’t wait ‘cause someone else in my school may get it.”

  “Stop it,” she said chuckling. “I’m not buying that today, it’s too expensive.”

  “Too expensive? You said good leather will last forever. And this is fabulous leather,” he said laughing.

  “Boy, you’re cute, but not that cute. Come on. I said in January,” Barbara said and headed to the car.

  Barbara dropped Kareem off at Jean-Mary’s and he immediately told her about his trip to Lord and Taylor. He went on and on about the jacket that he wanted. He was underhandedly trying to convince her to get the jacket. Who was he kidding, though? Jean-Mary could not afford it. His mother and step-father could, but they’d never buy him a $500 anything. He wished his dad was not in prison. Dope would have hit the block and used the proceeds to buy the jacket without question. Rather than dwell on it, he completed his weekend chores and thought about the day that he would shop recklessly and buy whatever he wanted and not even think about it.

  CHAPTER 10

  The next day was a cold, but bright, Sunday and Jean-Mary had driven the boys to see their father. The three hour ride to the Allenwood Penitentiary in White Deer, PA was a serene one that they had taken every other week. Jean-Mary wanted the boys to stay connected to their father, although he had a life sentence. She held onto his sentence being overturned by the Court of Appeals or the Supreme Court.

  After they were checked in, it had taken James awfully long to report to the visiting room and Jean-Mary began to worry. She approached one of the guards and asked if he could call the unit for her son, and he did.

  Ten minutes later, James strolled into the visiting room and after routine hugs, he explained his tardiness. They chit-chatted for some time, and James noticed that Dre was a tad distant. Just not on the visit at all it seemed.

  “Dre, what’s with the quiet shit?” James asked and bumped Dre with his forearm.

  “Nothing, I’m chillen’,” Dre responded.

  “I see,” Jean-Mary said.

  “How was the football game?” James asked. “Chill. We beat King.”

  “That’s what’s up,” James said.

  “I bet ya’ll can’t beat my school,” Kareem said, adding his two cents.

  “You go to school with a bunch of white boys. We’ll kill them.” Dre snapped back.

  “They play hard, too,” Kareem said. “Whatever.”

  “Kareem made the honor roll, again,” Jean Mary told James.

  “I got all C’s and I am proud,” Dre said. “All I need to play football.”

  “For now. If you wanna go to a Division I football team, all C’s ain’t gonna cut it,” James told his son.

  “Are you tryinna tell me, I’m dumb.”

  “Man, it’s ‘trying too’,” Kareem said, correcting his older brother.

  “No one is calling you dumb,” Jean-Mary told Dre.

  “What are you talking about, boy?” James asked. “No, I ain’t calling you dumb, but C’s are just passing. Notre Dame, Florida State, USC, etcetera want all “A” students.”

  Dre sighed, and then confessed, “Well, I guess I won’t be attending them, huh?”

  James looked at Dre’s demeanor and concluded that Dre did not care about school, because he was committing crime. That sickened James. He was not ready for either of his sons to join him in federal prison. He feared the Dre was out there on those streets and digging a hole that would plant him right in a jail cell.

  CHAPTER 11

  Kareem enjoyed his usual Monday train ride home as he read a USA Today, which was left on the train. He was studying the money section when he was disturbed by a conversation that took place behind him.

  “Yo, man, I gots all da checks for you can get this money,” one thug said to another. He spoke in a manner that irked Kareem, which sparked his interest in the conversation.

  Kareem curiously spun around to see who sat behind him speaking so ignorantly. He saw two black men. The man that was talking wore the hottest mink coat. The other was dressed nicely, but appeared timid.

  “For the second time, I heard that part. My question is, will the check clear at my bank?” the weaker man asked with skepticism.

  “Who cares? Just make the deposit and when the bank makes the funds available withdraw the cash before the bank even gets the check.”

  “And you’re sure I won’t get knocked by the feds?”

  Kareem pondered what he had heard. How does one make it out of the ghetto when all influences, even well-appointed politicians and clergy were dross? Societal pressure was a bitch. Two days ago, he watched a credit card scammer get arrested, and now he had intercepted a plot that sounded as if it had a high probability to end with the same result.

  “If you’re scared, buy a dog. You have an ATM card, right?” asked the man in the fur.

  “Yeah, but...”

  “But nothing. Deposit and withdraw da money from da ATM and then report the card to the police as stolen. So when the bank questions you, you will have a police report.”

  “How much?” the timid thug asked, despite becoming more and more convinced to pull the stunt.

  “Listen to dis. Here is two checks. Write ‘em out for $1,500 each. Lemme git $500 now and $500 after you get the cash from the bank.”

  Kareem was glad that he was about to exit the train. He jumped off the train, and then walked toward his house and replayed that foolish conversation. Could those guys have been that stupid, Kareem thought. Their whole conversation was a tad bitter, and I can’t believe them clowns. Stupid criminals.

  Kareem entered his home and immediately completed his homework, so that he could report to work. About an hour later, he reported to work, although, he was not particularly happy with his job. The last few months he had worked like a slave earning $25 a day and he saved as much as he could. He wanted things that no one would buy him, so he figured he had to devote half of his own money to his expensive wants, but his pauper salary didn’t allow it. While he hated the salary, he worked hard to gain a wealth of knowledge with regards to retailing. Cleaning was one of his duties. Lately, though, Kim had taught him to take inventory and stock shelves, as well as keep a running balance of the store’s daily earnings. He had been handling managerial duties without even being paid for them, and he hated that.

  After work, Kareem expressed his grievances to Jean-Mary who encouraged him to stick it out. It was almost a new year, and in March he would be fifteen and able to obtain working papers. Until then, he would gain all of the experience he could for next to no salary in exchange for a greater salary later.

  CHAPTER 12

  With all of the Christmas and New Year’s holiday hoopla over, Kareem was glad to be back at school, but disappointed that he did not have his jacket. He hoped that the school day would have something for him considering everyone else had seemed to fail him. He knew at that point in his life that anything that he wanted he had to work for. No one was going to give him anything; he had to take it.

  During Gym class, Kareem had signed up for the cross- country track team. He had no fear of practicing in record low temperatures. On the up side, he would leave 8th period early on occasion to t
ravel to schools to compete. He wanted to do as many things as possible to show up on all scholarship radars.

  Later that day, he was escorted by Mrs. Davis to the auditorium for an assembly. The highlight of his day was getting out of the stressful AP European Civilizations class. In the auditorium, the 9th grade students were introduced to Carl Rogers, an investment banker with Merrill Lynch. Diane Eagle, a First Union Bank banker was also on the stage. They were both there to talk finance.

  Mr. Rogers encouraged students to convince their parents to allow them to invest in stocks for their favorite products. “Why not invest in the brands that you bought everyday and get your money back?” Mr. Rogers had said. That was what stuck in Kareem’s mind.

  On the flip side, Ms. Eagle taught students the importance of saving early in high school to have some financial freedom in college. She invited students to visit a First Union branch to open a Student Saver Account, which had no minimum balance and earned roughly three percent interest.

  Kareem was interested in both and planned to ask Jean- Mary to help him invest in and save for his future. He thought, where were you two when I needed my jacket around Christmas time. In fact, I wonder if my jacket is still at the store and on sale. I guess I am going to pay Lord and Taylor a visit after school today to check that out.

  ***

  Later that day, Kareem rode the train and exited at the Wayne Junction Station as usual. Rather than walk the two blocks to his home, he called Jean-Mary from a gas station pay phone. He informed her that he was headed to the Free Library of Philadelphia on Chelten Avenue. He then boarded a 23-bus headed north.

  Upon reaching Chelten Avenue, rather than enter the library, he hopped on the 65-bus. The beginning of the short bus ride was boring and lacked any interesting scenery. That changed when the bus left the ghetto and entered the sophisticated City Avenue. He rode up the avenue that separated West Philadelphia from affluent Bala Cynwd, Montgomery County and spotted the Adam’s Mark Hotel, ABC & NBC television network affiliates, and Saks Fifth Avenue.

  On the bus, he had tried to complete his Algebra homework, but the atmosphere had captivated him. Kareem Bezel was on a mission, much like when he competed in a science fair that proved Newton’s Laws of Gravity. He had contemplated this mission for a few hours, but like the science fair, he was determined to win.

  Kareem arrived at the shopping plaza, anchored by Lord and Taylor and smiled. He hopped off the bus, and stood at the City Avenue entrance to the store. The obvious entrance to the store designed for the wealthy, white, middle-class suburbanites; not the poor, under-privileged blacks that lived on the dole, like himself. Jean-Mary had her retirement, and Barbara had her money, but they could not shop at the store daily.

  Entering the store, he made his way through the children’s department, and then headed right for the men’s department. He hoped and prayed that his jacket, designed for him, was on the wood hanger where he had last seen it. He scoped the department and visually scanned what the upscale parlor had to offer. Very few things compared to the motorcycle jacket that he wanted.

  “Excuse me, young man. May I help you?” an older white woman asked. She wore Sally Jesse Raphael-like horn-rimmed glasses that were on a link around her neck.

  “No. I am just window shopping,” Kareem responded boyishly.

  “Great. I am Carmen. If you need me, I’ll be here.”

  After Carmen left his side, Kareem realized that he was inside the store, so he was not window shopping. He was in- store browsing. Where is the lady that was here in December, he thought. He heard the department telephone ring and watched Carmen answer it. When she had become busy, Kareem had an inner voice encourage him to complete his mission. Kareem carefully checked the size of the jacket he wanted, grabbed it, and then raced to the dressing room. He had three shirts, also.

  Security watched his every move, thanks to Carmen alerting them of his suspicious behavior. Moments later, Kareem left the dressing room and placed the shirts back on the rack that he had found them. Carmen watched him carefully.

  “You’re not going to get the Harley Davidson jacket?” she asked him with a faux smile.

  “Huh? No,” Kareem responded. “I actually forgot the jacket in the dressing room.”

  “Let me go get it,” she said and then added, “Wait right there.”

  Wait right here for what, Kareem thought as he walked towards the exit. One of those huge security guys that went after the con man was at the door, posing as a casual shopper, but Kareem had remembered him. He walked right out of the door, as Carmen yelled, “Stop him! Stop that Black kid!”

  “Come here, you little piece of shit,” the man screamed at Kareem’s dust.

  Kareem sprinted through the Lord and Taylor parking lot with the man in pursuit. Security was yelling into his walkie- talkie, “He’s running. The little runt is running.”

  Kareem weaved through the four-lane City Avenue traffic like a rat negotiating a maze. Traffic was heavy and Kareem played dodge the cars. Making matters complicated, he noticed that two other associates chased him, as well. All of them blanched, as if they’d seen ghosts while watching Kareem nimbly cross the avenue. None of them were as fortunate as they watched Kareem run with them stuck at a light.

  Run man. You can beat these clowns, Kareem thought. He ran down Belmont Avenue, and deeper into West Philadelphia. He had a two block lead on the loss prevention guys, and hoped that they stopped chasing him. He was a cross country runner and had been running from police in the hood for doing mischievous things; so, he had a lot of practice.

  In the distance, Kareem saw a SEPTA bus coming and knew that if he became a passenger he would escape. For the next 90-seconds, Kareem jogged at the same pace as his pursuers. They would never catch him at that rate. He maintained his two block lead and kept looking over his shoulder to be sure they hadn’t been shot with a burst of energy. Kareem wasn’t silly. He knew that carbohydrates held the men down. They needed to pay him for the workout. To him they were fat and unintelligent. How smart can they be to be chasing me for a jacket that ain’t even theirs? I could have a gun and shoot one of these fools, and all over a jacket that they ain’t going to buy. Fuck that!

  The wait for the bus to catch up to Kareem seemed like an eon, but he flagged down the bus and sought refuge. He was shocked that the driver had let him on. He thought that if he was on the chasing end, he would have asked the driver not to pick the thief up.

  Kareem couldn’t believe the close call. Loss prevention needs a vehicle, he thought, and then rang the bus signal to be let off. There was no way that he would stay on the bus and continue on. What if the loss prevention team was smart enough to have the police track the bus? He rode the three blocks and when the bus made a turn, he hopped off. Kareem took the jacket from out of his waist line and stuffed it in his book bag. Afterward, he jogged up two streets and then made a right and headed back to City Avenue. And to his sole benefit, there was the 65-bus in the distance.

  Kareem paid the fare and got on and casually strolled to the back of the bus. That was where he belonged, in the back with the colored folk for stealing. He couldn’t believe the close call, but he was sure that security would never catch him in a foot chase. He rode the bus feeling quite serene for having committed a crime. He was unbothered by the incident, and had learned from his dad not to regret anything and prepare for the punishment before you do the crime.

  ***

  Kareem arrived home and contemplated what his life would become. He dreamed of becoming an attorney, but that was just a dream after having committed a crime. He was definitely going into fashion for sure at that point. I used a bus as a getaway car, he thought and chuckled. A getaway bus.

  During dinner, he wore a melancholy expression, which Jean-Mary noticed and asked was he okay.

  “Yes, Mama. I am great. I had a hard track practice.”

  The actual track practice was not a problem. It was the additional sprinting from the cops that consumed
him. He thought of his dad and was proud of himself.

  They finished up dinner and Kareem went to work and became infuriated. Had those foreigners paid him appropriately, he would not have to steal. He could afford what he wanted and have nice things. Even worse, if those same foreigners had not taken over every corner store in the hood, maybe his dad could have bought one and his family could be eating. He wasn’t man, he was pissed and visualized revenge.

  Kareem was instructed to record the daily earnings into the stores ledger and deduct five checks for goods from the balance. While filling in the numbers, he noticed that some of the previous numbers had been changed and not his handwriting. That’s strange, he thought. He ignored the changes, did his job, and then went home.

  He watched Jeopardy! and thought about what jeopardy he had put his self in and then thought of his next move.

  CHAPTER 13

  In April, some three months after his initial request, Jean- Mary and Kareem awoke early one morning and headed to Merrill Lynch. They were prepared to take advantage of the investment tools that he had heard about. There was money out there and he wanted to tap into it. There was no way that he would let advice from the white man pass him by. Kareem was not a racist. He did know that in order to compete with his white counterparts, though, he had to take advantage of the same tools they used. He wanted no parts of a government handout. It was free money, but he wanted his own. And even if he did take that free money, he had no desire to rely on it.

  Dre was with them and had no real desire to be. He was a thug and had no desire to hand his money over to no one, but a supplier. Kareem had convinced him to take the ride, but he just was not interested in involving himself in the real world. Nonetheless, he entered the investment bank and would sit and watch his brother get into the real world.

  After a brief wait in the lobby, they were ushered to the desk of Ms. Donna Chappelle. Ms. Chappelle looked about twenty-eight, but despite her age, Kareem assumed that her investment portfolio was corpulent. After a brief introduction, Ms. Chappelle handed her clients a current Merrill Lynch prospectus to review. Jean-Mary was not certain what she was reading, but she was confident that Kareem had it under control. Dre just folded his and sat it on his lap. He had no plans to use the prospectus. Dre sat there as Kareem explained to Jean-Mary what was going on.